


baby just say yes (or something like that)

by edgeofthewall



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Pregnancy, it's like a drive by of like 200000000 tropes yw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgeofthewall/pseuds/edgeofthewall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, three times bellamy proposes and one time clarke does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby just say yes (or something like that)

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh hello! i was thrilled by the success this fic had on tumblr, so i decided to move it over here while also cleaning up the typos and such that i completely missed when i posted it on tumblr. i hope you all enjoy, and i hope the fluff doesn't rot your teeth.

He’d often heard stories of proposals during the times before the war that pushed them to the sky. Men (it was always described as the men, something he didn’t understand) would kneel in front of a fictional cartoon princess’s castle, in the middle of a restaurant after an expensive meal, after synchronized dancing to a tune he often caught people humming, a tune he refused to acknowledge was catchy.

Bellamy had heard these stories and found them silly, but the one thing that had always intrigued him, the one thing that made him think maybe that whole proposal thing wasn’t so silly after all, was the idea of fireworks.

He’d never seen them, but he imagined the way Mount Weather exploded into shards under their fire, the way the damage lit up the night sky as if the torture and the death had never happened, well, that was probably a lot what fireworks were.

Which was why he suddenly decided it would be a good idea to get down on one knee (right?? left?? ring??), take Clarke’s hand, and look up at her with sincere eyes that didn’t quite match the exhaustion hidden away until you looked at him just right.

"Marry me."

Clarke’s reactions happened so quickly that Bellamy would have laughed had they not all hit him like a ton of bricks. Whatever that phrase meant.  Her look of surprise had him feeling like maybe everything that had happened was in his head and they weren’t actually meant to be something far more than people who led a bunch of teenagers together.

The fondness that immediately followed made him feel a little less like a fool, though he could see her answer before she probably even decided on it. He stood again, not embarrased. At the very least, she knew how he felt now.

"You don’t have to say anything."

Bellamy turned to look up at the sky once more, though he didn’t let go of Clarke’s hand. The not-quite-fireworks were almost finished, the horrible memories overshadowed by the fact that Jasper stood just feet away near Maya, treated before the fall of the mountain by permission of the people trapped in there. She had done good by them, and if some of them had to die, they could at least bring her.

He was lost in his thoughts about his time in Mount Weather, lurking about and fighting for the lives of his friends while attempting to stay hidden, when Clarke finally spoke.

"Clarke Blake sounds terrible."

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up comically high as he forced himself to tear his gaze from the sky and instead let it fall on the blonde beside him.

"Excuse me?"

"Clarke Blake." She repeated it, and he was glad, because it was like music, or something cheesy like that. "It’s a terrible name. You would have to take my last name. Bellamy Griffin sounds much better. Less harsh consonants."

Bellamy scoffed at her. “No name sounds terrible if it’s paired with Blake. No way is that happening.”

Clarke shrugged at that, dropping his hand, though the way her eyes seemed to laugh told him it was nothing but teasing.

"I’m going to have to say no then."

* * *

He didn’t ask her again for quite a few years, until long after they’ve decided there was no place for them among the people of the Ark. It was exhausting to spend every day fighting to be recognized as what had kept them all alive after the adults had been the ones to send them to the ground to die in the first place. So they left, the members of the 100 who remained accompanied by more than they expected from the Ark, who agreed that the old ways had never worked down here on the ground.

The relationship between Clarke and Bellamy was never discussed much. Watching the two of them fall into what it was that they had was almost as easy as it was for the two themselves to stop ignoring how they couldn’t handle parting with each other. The only response to the announcement that once they reached the sea, Clarke would be staying with Bellamy in the settlement, was an immediate and boisterous fight over who would get the materials that had made up Clarke’s tent. It was oddly heartwarming, and beautifully exasperating.

They reached the sea not long after, the respect for Clarke that still existed after the peace that followed the fall of Mount Weather allowing them to find a territory to settle into, to build upon, to plant in, to make a home.

What a concept.

Bellamy thought the right time had come once again. The cabin they’d spent months building, choosing to continue living in their tent until it was deemed absolutely perfect by Clarke (and himself) was almost finished. Her final touch was a carving on the front door. She sketched it, and he carved it.

Fireworks etched onto their front door meant so many things, and one of them was a second chance.

She started to laugh as soon as he started to sink to one knee, and he immediately laughed with her. It had been a running joke for awhile now. He knew they would never actually get married. What they had was far beyond that. One couldn’t define what being co-leaders, best friends, sworn enemies, and potential soulmates meant with the word marriage. That, and they didn’t want to use the impersonal ceremonies used on the Ark, and they agreed that using the ceremonies that had been used to marry Lincoln and Octavia weren’t appropriate for them, not when they were both Sky People.

Still, he asked again.

"Marry me, future Mrs. Blake."

Clarke leaned down and buried her face into his curls, briefly thinking to herself that he needed a haircut, before straightening back up.

"Perhaps in your dreams, Mr. Griffin."

She moved to step into their new home for the first time, barely lifting her foot before Bellamy swept her off her feet, kicking open the front door to carry her in bridal style.

"Absolutely not. There are far more important uses for my dreams, and I’m going to show you at least three of them right now."

For the rest of their days by the sea, the fireworks on the door became an inside joke among the camp.

* * *

The first children had been terrifying. Clarke had the medical expertise, but her hands still shook as she delivered Octavia’s baby, all sharp features and dark skin, with the most adorable little laugh anyone had ever heard. It meant a new hope to the camp, that the families that had been forming since the first day they’d landed could begin to expand. They weren’t teenagers anymore, and even those who were the youngest when the dropship had torn through the atmosphere were in their early twenties. It was to be expected. 

The children that followed Octavia’s were easier. Clarke didn’t seem interested in training anyone to be anything more than her assistant, until a few days after she’d delivered Raven’s baby with remarkable ease. Her system she’d developed had proved to be foolproof, and as much as she hated to admit that soon she would need help, at least she knew it would be easy to teach. She’d approached a few of the people who had been helping her and started to prep them to one day deliver babies on their own.

They were sitting down to dinner when Bellamy asked about it.

"So you’re finally admitting that you can’t deliver every child all on your own? I know you haven’t heard of it, but you do have to sleep every once in awhile."

Clarke poked her tongue out at him lazily, though she laughed softly. He loved her laugh. The years that had passed had added more lines to her face, some of them born of weariness, except for the ones around her eyes. They were strictly from her smiles, and they were his favorites.

"I seem to be doing just fine without it, so I disagree. But I figured even I’m beyond the capabilities of delivering my own baby."

This time, it was Clarke’s turn to watch reactions pass across his face with remarkable speed. First confusion, followed by realization, followed by shock, and then finally, happiness. Fully prepared to tease him for the tears that welled up in his eyes, Clarke never got a chance before he was springing from his seat and kissing her harder than he’d ever kissed her. It wasn’t desperate, but a sort of victory dance, a celebration, a way to acknowledge that not only had they saved the lives of as many as possible, but soon, they would be bringing in their own.

Bellamy pulled away from the kiss but remained kneeling in front of her.

"Not this again!" 

He laughed in a watery sort of way, picking up her hand and pressing kisses to every inch of it until she finally had to pull it away, teasing about how he’d exhaust himself when she had plans for him later.

"Yes, this again. Marry me. You know, back in the day statistics said that children raised in homes where the parents were happily married were-"

"And statistics show that moms with terrible names like Clarke Blake become incredibly irritable and leave their husbands to do everything."

She stood, laughing at the way he looked both incredulous and absolutely in love at the same time. This was the epitome of what they were: running jokes and fond looks, and tiny arguments over things that mattered so much because they didn’t matter at all. 

"Now help me clean up, and get off the floor, you weirdo."

* * *

Life expectancy ended up being more than they’d dared to hope for. Granted, it wasn't that high, but after all the trauma most of them had been through, it’s considered a victory when their first dies of natural causes, of simple exhaustion, when their hair is grey. 

Lincoln lived to see his daughter get married, and Raven lived to watch her son start to fall in love with Maya’s daughter. They are all small victories in themselves, to know that after so long of living day by day, they could live decade by decade.

Of course it was no surprise to anyone that their fearless leaders would live the longest. Perhaps it was their combined selflessness ensuring none of their friends would have to mourn their deaths, or perhaps it was Bellamy’s absolute insistence on being alive to kick the ass of the first girl to look at his daughter wrong, but either way, Clarke is blessed with the opportunity to say goodbye.

She sat by his bedside, her grey curls so long now, reaching almost to her knees, holding his hand as he slowly succumbed to old age. It was bittersweet in so many ways. She knew she wouldn’t have much long after him, but it was hard to imagine even just a short little while in a world that continued to turn without him.

"Bellamy?"

He was sleeping, or at least pretending to, but he managed to open his eyes, giving her a soft smile. 

"Clarke."

"Will you marry me?"

Bellamy didn't even look surprised, his grin as wide as it could possibly be under the circumstances. He squeezed her hand weakly.

"How did you know I’ve just been waiting all these years for you to ask?"

Her answering laugh was watery, just like his when she’d told him she was pregnant. It was those moments that stood out to her most, she realized. Those moments when he had asked her to marry him, because he didn’t know what else to do with all the love for her.

"I figured it out eventually."

She pressed a kiss to his palm, and held it to her face, and felt the way his heart beat right with hers through his pulse point, as she felt it fade into nothing.

* * *

He’s buried next to his sister, with a spot beside him for Clarke, when the time comes.

She takes the door off the house and has a new one made, asking one of the carpenters to cut a headstone out of the old one.

On top of the fireworks, she carves his name.

_Bellamy Griffin._

_Beloved husband and father._

_Most of the time._

_May we meet again._


End file.
